


Lonely Soldier

by kingsatanthegay



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Depression, Insecurity, Langst, M/M, Panic Attacks, Self-Destruction, Self-Esteem Issues, Suicide, klangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-05 20:07:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10316003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingsatanthegay/pseuds/kingsatanthegay
Summary: This fic was inspired by Damien Rice's 'Lonely Soldier.' I thought it suited the hc that Lance had some issues after returning to Earth.https://youtu.be/QTD3l7UWiyQMajor trigger warning (suicide, anxiety) for this whole thing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by Damien Rice's 'Lonely Soldier.' I thought it suited the hc that Lance had some issues after returning to Earth.  
> https://youtu.be/QTD3l7UWiyQ
> 
> Major trigger warning (suicide, anxiety) for this whole thing.

It had been a few years since their return to Earth. The first year had been alright.

The paladins had finally been able to spend time with their families. Keith was welcomed quickly and wholeheartedly into Lance's, almost no questions asked. They had all gotten to relax at last.

Near the end of that year, Lance had had his first major panic attack.

He was sitting on the porch with his family when the realization hit him. Putting on a calm facade, he excused himself and rushed to the washroom, locking himself in.

He knelt down, feeling panic overtake him, thoughts running wild. His heart beat faster with every new one, and he began hyperventilating.

_I'm not needed anymore._

Now that the paladins were no longer necessary, Lance would be cast aside like the useless idiot he had been back at Garrison. He couldn't do anything right then, and he couldn't do anything right now.

His intrusive thoughts, which he had worked tirelessly to ignore and suppress, clawed their way back to the surface.

_They don't need you anymore. They never wanted to need you. And now that they don't, they're going to leave you behind and find someone worth their time._

He drew in a sharp, strangled breath. The voice was right; he would be cast aside like the bag of waste he was. Keith would find someone that wasn't a meaningless fling, someone who wasn't only convenient, because now he had _options_.

A knock on the door cut through his frenzied thoughts. "Lance?" It was Keith. "Are you alright? You've been in there a while..."

Lance didn't trust his voice not to waver and crack when he spoke. But he spoke anyways, because at least then he wouldn't have to show his splotchy red face and bloodshot eyes to Keith. "Y-yeah, I'm fine. I'll be a minute."

There was a beat of silence before Keith replied. "Alright. We're all here if you need anything."

Lance flinched. _'We're all here.' Not 'I'm here for you,'_ his mind taunted him. He grit his teeth, trying his best to ignore the voice he knew was right. It didn't work; he gave up and let it taunt him, rub his failure in his face. He couldn't block it out anymore, not when it was telling the truth. Not when it was backing up thoughts Lance had entertained himself.

Over the course of the following months, Lance began spending less and less time with his family, and had stopped sharing a bed with Keith. Instead he locked himself in the guest bedroom, only leaving to use the washroom. When he started skipping meals, Keith would leave a plate at his door. Even though Lance knew they were worried, he refused to open the door and take the food. He didn't deserve their charity, their food. He deserved to starve and suffer by himself. Eventually the plate would be cleared away, and eventually Keith stopped bringing him food. It was then that Lance knew for sure Keith didn't love him. 

Keith knocked on the door frequently, checking in with Lance and making sure he was OK. When Lance stopped replying, Keith stopped knocking.

Keith had given up on him.

That stung the most, like a punch to the gut, not with a fist, but with a mace. It left him reeling, gasping for breath through his uncontrollable sobs. He couldn't do this anymore. 

_Keith had given up on him._

Even though his mamá was pounding on the door, begging him to open up, her own sobs tearing through her words.

_He couldn't do this anymore._

"Lance!" she screamed. "Mijo, let me in! Please let me in!" The door shuddered every time her fist met it, and the paintings that decorated the walls shook. "Mijo, please! I'm worried for you! We're all worried for you! Let me in, please, I need to know you're OK!"

Lance just couldn't bring himself to open the door. Not even when a lower voice joined in the frantic shouting, one he recognized as Keith's.

"Lance, open the door! We need to know you're alive, please!" His pounding joined Lance's mama's. He wondered what would happen if the door broke, snapped clean in two.

_Then you wouldn't be the only broken one in this house._

He let out a breathy chuckle. No, he supposed he wouldn't. It might be nice not to be alone anymore.

His eyes wandered across the room, taking in the details. His jacket, laying on the floor, fallen from where it had been hanging on the door. The closet, which stood empty; he hadn't bothered taking any of his things with him when he'd moved into this room. The bed, with its sheets untucked, even though Lance barely slept. His medication, prescribed by the therapist he had stopped seeing, sitting on the nightstand, a full bottle.

_Maybe I should take some. It might make me feel better._

He pushed himself onto his hands and knees and crawled over to the table. He could barely lift his arm to grab the bottle. His fingers brushed it and it fell off the table, causing the pills to rattle loudly. 

The pounding on his door had stopped.

_Oh good. They've given up again._

"Lance?!" someone cried. Maybe they had heard the pills.

Lance managed to get the bottle open, shaking a few pills into his palm. His vision was blurred; he couldn't see how many there were as he swallowed them dry. How many had the therapist told him to take? He couldn't remember.

The pounding had renewed, more intensely this time, frantic, almost. Maybe they were worried about him after all.

He picked out a few new voices, but couldn't put a face or a name to them. They were very familiar, though.

The pills weren't making him feel better; they were making him feel worse. He took a few more, thinking they would help.  
His mind was going foggy. He could barely keep his eyes open.

Faintly he heard someone yell, "I'm breaking the door down, everyone get out of the way!"

He barely registered the door flying off its hinges, falling to the floor. He would have been surprised to see the faces off his fellow paladins had his mind not gone black.

The worry on all their faces shocked him back to feeling.

Hunk's face was tear-streaked and blotchy. He couldn't see Pidge's face where it was buried in his side. Shiro and Allura were clutching each other for dear life.

Dimly he heard her say she couldn't look, couldn't watch him... 

His mamá looked absolutely heartbroken. She probably couldn't believe the scene playing out in front of her. 

And Keith... Now he knew he'd been wrong about Keith. Keith had never given up on him, far from it. And the expression on his face, the look in his eye, those were enough to convince Lance. 

He reached out his hand as Keith came rushing forward. 

He felt Keith's arms around him, his heaving sobs and warm tears. Heard his hoarse, broken voice apologizing to him over and over. Saying he should've been there, should've known something was seriously wrong. 

He whispered, "I'm sorry. I love you."


End file.
